


Prude

by keep_waking_up



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Multi, On screen threesome, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Watching, Rimming, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:18:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_waking_up/pseuds/keep_waking_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's a prude.  Dean's way too curious about his sex life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prude

Despite all of Dean’s best efforts, Sam’s kind of a prude. He’d always been like that, but Dean’d figured once he hit puberty he’d lighten up, become, well, more like Dean. Be open to discussing hook-ups and girls, join Dean in his flirting at bars. Dean had looked forward to the day they could discuss porn together and debate whether Angelina Jolie or Charlize Theron would be a better fuck. He couldn’t wait to see what kind of man Sam would grow up to be, how many beautiful women would be hanging off his arm. The day Sam turned fourteen, he’d been giddy with the knowledge that soon enough he’d have the relationship with his brother that he’d always wanted.

When Sam remained a midget through most of his freshman year in high school, Dean had acknowledged the fact that he’d have to wait a little bit longer. Sammy was a late bloomer, that was all, and once he shot up, his hormones would get working as well. Dean didn’t mind waiting. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere.

The day Sam called him asking for advice on how to talk to girls was one of the most exciting moments of his life. Unfortunately, it ended up being all for nothing when Sam remained infuriatingly close-lipped about it and refused to tell Dean a think. That’s been pretty much parr for the course ever since.

So when Dean wakes up in the middle of the night in the house they’re squatting in for the case and hears noise coming from downstairs that sounds suspiciously like porn, he doesn’t hesitate to tiptoe down the stairs to see if he can spy on Sam and what he’s watching.

He certainly doesn’t expect what he gets.

Sam’s sitting on the leather couch, illuminated by nothing but the light from the TV screen. The harsh light makes his face look eerily intense and alien as it plays off the shadows formed by his cheekbones and the glassy glint of his fox-like eyes. He’s got his pants open so his dick can hang out, but he’s not beating it furiously like Dean would’ve expected. He’s playing with himself, light and leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world to get himself off. His gaze is intent on the screen, as if he’s seen this a thousand times and is waiting for a specific something to happen.

Dean has a clear view of all of this, and an even clearer view of the TV screen. A view that’s making his heart beat in his chest a bit faster and an icy sense of shock play up his spine.

It’s definitely porn all right, even if it hasn’t actually gotten to the sex part yet. There’s a girl, spread out on her stomach, her wrists and ankles cuffed and chained so she’s forced to remain spread-eagle on the bed. Everything’s been taken off of her but a lacy black thong and some thigh high black stocking that make him want to run his hands down her legs. She’s whimpering; there’s probably a vibrator in her pussy or teasing her clit, by his guess. All in all, it’s a pretty appetizing sight if he ignores the two other men on screen with her.

The man standing by the bed is more of a boy than anything. He’s young, coltish in a way that reminds Dean of Sam in his late teens. He’s got short, touseled blonde hair and puffy pink lips that look like they’ve been put to use sucking cock, not eating pussy. He’s naked, expect for a black collar around his neck, and trembling. He turns a little, so his back is facing the audience and Dean’s eyes widen as he takes in the black plug firmly seated in his ass.

The boy turns to the other man, as if awaiting instruction. The man’s seated in a leather armchair facing the bed, and he’s dressed, something that rarely happens in the porn Dean watches. Dark leather pants wrap around his legs, and a silk shirt falls over his chest, buttons stopping half-way up so you can see how utterly ripped the guy is. He’s tall and broad and intimidating, with slanted eyes and long hair. Dean knows that face, knows that body, and swallows as he watches the image of his little brother on the screen.

It’s not a recent portrayal. Sam’s build isn’t as bulky and his hair is shorter. It could be from his time at Stanford; probably is. But there’s something in his brother’s eyes as he gestures to the other boy in the scene that Dean has never seen before. Something deep and dark and hot. This is Sam. This is Sam as a sexual being, and Dean realizes that for all his fond wishes he’s never thought of Sam that way before. Sam could be someone who could look at a partner like that, he was ready to eat them up. That his voice could become the licorice curl that Dean hears when Sam orders the boy to begin eating the girl out. He didn’t think there was anything to Sam he didn’t know.

But he doesn’t know this. This is a part of Sam that he’s kept secret from Dean, something that, for all their closeness, he wasn’t willing to share.

He’s so entranced by the picture on the screen (Sam now has the boy fucking the girl while he plays with the boy’s plug, speaking in a low, dirty voice to both of them) that he forgets about the Sam that’s right in front of him right now. Sam’s still just playing, long hand pumping his dick a few times, slowly, before halting and rubbing his thumb over the head once, twice to clear it of pre-come. His other hand has traced up under his shirt, massaging the muscles of his stomach, occasionally tugging at a nipple. Dean can see a faint trace of sweat on Sam’s neck, but otherwise he looks like he could keep going forever.

His strokes only pick up when the Sam onscreen pulls the plug all the way out of the boy, tosses it aside, and slams into him with one gritty moan. The boy cries out, loud and high, and the girl’s tossing her head, having felt the thrust through the boy’s body. Both of them are moving as Sam commands, voices ringing out in unison as he pounds into both of them. Dean licks his dry lips as the lights play over the muscles of Sam’s back. He’s taken the shirt off but left the pants on, but that doesn’t seem to deter him from fucking the living daylights out of people in front of him.

His Sam is really going for it now, using both hands so he can do as much as possible. Even as he’s stroking himself with quick little twists of his wrist, his other hand is reaching down to tug at his balls or tease his slit. He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen for a second and the noises he’s making are clamped down in his throat. Like it’d ruin everything if he made a noise.

Dean ignores the fact that his own pants are a little too tight. He’s a little bit frightened. He’s seen more than he meant to and it feels wrong for him to watch now. Especially because it’s having too much of an affect on him considering it’s porn with his little brother in it. He shifts, moving to get up, when the Sam on screen and the Sam on the couch climax almost in unison.

It’s an amazing. Two different angles providing him the optimum view as Sam throws his head back and moans. He shoots like a porn star, that’s for sure, come soaking his stomach and thighs. He doesn’t bother trying to contain it, just lets loose like Sam almost never does in real life. The screen begins to fade now that everyone’s come, but his Sam is still there on the couch, head tilted backwards, eyes closed, and breathing heavy. 

He takes several deep breaths and then opens his eyes, finding Dean unerringly in the dark. Dean freezes as Sam blinks a few times, not all that surprised. His voice is husky as he says, “It was my girlfriend before Jess. The girl.”

Dean clears his throat, still not moving, watching as come drips down the exposed parts of Sam’s stomach. “And the guy?”

Shrugging, Sam rolls his shoulders. “Don’t know. Met him at a club and asked if he minded. He didn’t.”

“Obviously.”

There’s silence as Sam begins to clean up, pulling his clothes off and grabbing tissues to mop up his stomach. It’s too much, seeing Sam naked after that. Dean makes a small noise and stands. “Look, I’m just gonna go back to bed—”

“With that?” Confused, Dean tilts his head, only to have Sam nod at his crotch with amusement. Glancing down, he realizes that he’s still hard, aching in his jeans from what he’d just seen. It’s humiliating, sends a flush to his cheeks, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind. “Might as well take care of it.”

“No, that’s okay—”

“Dean, come here.”

It’s the same tone of voice from the video and Dean feels like Sam’s thrown a hook into his gut and tugged him forward. He stumbles down the stairs without even thinking about it, his breath already picking up. 

Everything’s wrong. This isn’t them. He’s standing in front of Sam, hard for Sam, nervous, embarrassed, and lost. He’s supposed to know what’s going on. He’s supposed to take care of Sam, know Sam. But this naked guy in front of him, eyes curved with amusement and promising nothing but sex… Dean has no idea who he is.

Sam steps forward, coming up until they are mere inches apart. Dean’s never felt his height so keenly as Sam towers over him. One of Sam’s massive hands comes down and cups the bulge in Dean’s jeans, feeling it experimentally as he stares into Dean’s eyes. Slowly, Sam begins to rub at his dick through the coarse material. Dean’s mouth falls open. He can’t make a sound, can’t say a word. All he can do is watch Sam and try to breathe.

“God Dean,” Sam murmurs and Dean lets out a sound of protest when Sam’s hand leaves his dick. “Look at you. Pretty little big brother.” He’s circling Dean slowly, tracing his hands over fabric and skin alike. When his hand grazes Dean’s ass, Dean whimpers and thrusts back. It’s been a long time since anyone touched him there in play, since the experimentation of his youth. He wants that now, wants to be laid down and spread and taken. Sam’s woven some spell over him and he’s helpless in its sway.

Almost as if Sam knows what he’s thinking, he makes a soft, comforting noise while stroking Dean’s back. “I know, I know. You’re probably feeling pretty mixed up right now, aren’t you?” Dean nods uncertainly and shivers as Sam presses a kiss to the back of his neck. “You had no idea, did you?” And when Dean shakes his head, Sam huffs out a laugh. “You’re possibly the only person I know who can keep a secret from themselves for ten years.” He pauses momentarily, before slipping his hands under Dean’s shirt. “I only figured it out when I was a senior. What it meant, the way you looked at me. It was only recently that I realized you didn’t even know.” He pinches Dean’s nipples, rolling them to elicit a gasp. “That’s why I set this up,” he whispers, right in Dean’s ear, his warm breath causing goose-bumps to rise over his skin. “It was the only way to make you see. Do you get it now?”

He nods, pressing his face against Sam like a kitten starved for affection. He’s been missing something all this time. He’s going to get it now. And he does, as Sam’s fingers dip under his waist band and two fingers press up against his ass. He starts, before grinding back into them, rubbing against Sam as much as he can. Sam loops an arm around his waist, stilling him as Sam plays with his hole, fingers dancing around the sensitive edges. “You’ve been fucked before,” Sam says and it’s not a question. Dean nods anyways. “And you liked it.” There’s a pause until Dean realizes that Sam’s waiting for him to nod again. Eagerly, he does, bobbing his head up and down like an idiot before turning to mouth at the line of Sam’s jaw. Sam laughs at that, leaning his head away from Dean’s eagerly questing lips. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He doesn’t wait for Dean’s affirmation before asking, “How long?”

Dean hasn’t spoken since this began and he doubts he can now. He whines, trying to get to Sam, kiss him, touch him anywhere, anywhere Sam’ll let him, but he’s held roughly away. Sam’s hand falls from his waist to cup his dick, squeezing just this side of too hard. “How long, Dean?”

“Since Cassie,” he blurts out, squirming in Sam’s grasp. The hand on his junk gives him a soothing rub but he ignores it. Now that words have come, they’re streaming out. “Used to do it sometimes. Haven’t been fucked in the longest time, but you’ll do it for me. You’ll fuck me, right Sammy?”

“Yeah,” Sam breathes before diving down to smother Dean’s words with his lips, kissing him fast and sloppy, all tongue and teeth. He pulls his hand out of Dean’s pants to tug his head back, angling him how he wants. He moves so they’re facing each other and his other hand wraps around to grab at Dean’s ass, as if he’s reluctant leave it alone for too long. After a few seconds (or minutes, Dean is too out of it to tell), he pulls back, shoving Dean away. “Strip,” he commands, and Dean is clumsy as he does so, too much eagerness and not enough coordination.

The instant he’s naked, Sam’s got him bent over the nearby table. His fingers are back on his ass, the others playing with his right nipple. Dean arcs back into it, gasping to try and get the air he needs. “You ever had a real cock in here, Dean?” Sam hisses, before plunging a finger in and making him yelp. “You ever had anything besides a pretty girl’s plastic dick up this hole?” When Dean shakes his head, he can feel Sam’s smile against his neck. “Already a cock-slut and you haven’t even had the real thing. Gonna make it so good for you Dean, been waiting years to make it good for you.” He pauses, a second finger dipping lightly into Dean. “Haven’t got any lube, so I’m gonna have to get you wet. Need you wet and ready for me. Okay Dean?”

Brow furrowing, Dean pants, “What’re you gonna d—OH!” His whole body bucks forward as Sam pulls apart his cheeks and goes to town, not teasing, just eating at him, tongue-fucking him hard and messy. Sam laps at him fiercely, with the same intensity and focus he’s devoted to everything in his life. Dean lets himself rock back into it, allows his body to squirm with the too-intimate, dirty sensation. “Sam,” he gasps after one particularly sinful flick of the tongue. “Oh, Sam—please, you gotta—God, Sam, I swear—h-holy mother of god.” His limbs feel like jello and he’s slumping forward over the table, unable to hold himself up. “C-can’t take much—oh!—more. Gotta—gotta fuck me. Please, please—ah!—fuck me now!”

“Yeah, yeah, Dean, yeah.” He catches a glimpse of Sam’s face as he pulls away, red and messy with spit. His eyes are black in the darkness. Dean just moans and collapses back over the table as Sam pulls his legs farther apart and traces his dick over his hole. He feels desire wound up tight in the core of him, and only Sam can set it free. Pushing back, he tips his ass up, hoping… hoping…

The first press of Sam’s dick hurts. It’s slow and steady, just more and more of Sam pushing into him, filling him up. There’s always a part of him that says he shouldn’t let himself be vulnerable like this, shouldn’t open himself up for it. But it’s Sam, so he tries, relaxing and shoving back, trying to take more. He wants it, he wants Sam, and isn’t that an amazing thing, how much he wants his little brother. Wants to wrap himself all around Sam until he can never leave again.

Nothing feels as good as being filled. Or maybe it’s just be taken, possessed, claimed. Whatever it is, he likes it. It doesn’t take him long to adjust, not with the way Sam’s hands are running up and down his body like he’s the fucking Holy Grail. “Dean, you okay?” he asks, all concerned, a hint of normal-Sam coming through, caring and attentive.

Nodding unsteadily, Dean presses back. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. I want you to fuckin’… Want you to fucking fuck me. Please, Sammy.&rdquo

Sam groans, as if Dean’s words are enough to set him on fire, and he pulls out in one smooth motion, before he’s pounding back in. He isn’t gentle, Dean’s Sammy, no, he fucks like it’s a competition to see how fast, how hard, how well he can get Dean off. His hands are pressing Dean down hard into the table, covering his hipbones with their massive span, so all Dean can do is whine and hope Sam keeps giving it to him more, better, harder, faster, oh please.

“God Dean… So fuckin’ tight and hot, knew you’d be. Knew you’d be so good, big brother, I swear. Fucking made for me, perfect little body, all tight and hot and open for me.” Sam’s words are breathless grunts as he moves, punctuated by the press of his dick against the spot inside Dean that sets him on fire. 

Dean claws at the table, clenches down as if he can keep Sam inside him for that much longer if he does. He’s never been able to talk dirty when he’s being fucked; always made speechless by the feeling of something inside of him. It doesn’t means he’s quiet though. He can’t stop the litany of small sounds he makes, mewling, moaning, and murmuring against the table. Every time he makes noise, Sam seems to fuck him that much harder, tease his body with his hands that much better. Sam plays him like an instrument and he can’t do anything but sing along.

“You close, Dean?” Sam’s hand leaves his nipples. They’re red and puffy, as if someone’s been biting at them for hours, and the image of Sam biting them makes him groan. The sound grows louder as Sam’s hand begins petting his dick, too light and teasing to really get him off. It’s a stark contrast to where Sam is thrusting into him as hard as he can. “You ready to come? You need me to touch you here?”

“Y-yes,” Dean stutters out before making a choking sound as Sam rolls his hips in a move that should really be illegal.

Sam chuckles, and sex colors his voice. “I don’t think you need me to Dean. I think you can get from just. This.”

If Dean thought he was getting fucked before, it’s nothing compared to now. He screams as Sam thrusts into him, dragging his hips back instead of holding him still. Sam’s using him like an oversized rag-doll, like his own personal fuck-toy, moving his body where he wants it, when he wants it. Dean lets out a yowl at one particularly hard stroke, and he’s coming, his body vibrating with it as his come spills out of him, all over the table and his chest. The sight only seems to spur Sam into a more frantic pace, until he pulls Dean close to him and holds him almost too tight as he spills into him with a grunt.

It takes a few moments of stillness, both of them breathing heavily, before Sam’s arm relaxes and he drags Dean up, pulling him over to the sofa and laying him down. Dean’s limbs feel like jello, but he manages to mouth clumsily at Sam’s chest in thanks. “That was good,” he says, and cuddles closer. He’s gonna deny the cuddling thing in the morning, but right now he’s too fucked out to object.

Sam’s laughter rumbles through his chest. “Curiosity satisfied?” he asks, voice teasing. If Dean didn’t know better, he might think he was being flirted with.

He yawns and his eyes slip closed. “Ask me in the morning,” he slurs, and then he’s out.

All in all, he thinks as he begins to fade into sleep, he thinks he likes this version of their relationship even better.


End file.
